Permanent Measures
by Roguie
Summary: Hook never stopped to realize the damage inflicted on his soul with each of his Swan's casual rejections until bitterness threatened to turn his love for her into something less than pure. Nothing worth fighting for comes without pain; tonight, he's ready to go to war.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Permanent Measures

Part: 1/?

Author: Roguie – and all my alternate personalities.

Fandom: Once Upon A Time

Pairing: Hook/Emma

Rating: Eventual M.

Spoilers: Up to and including 3x18 – Bleeding Through

Summary: Hook never stopped to realize the damage inflicted on his soul with each of his Swan's casual rejections until bitterness threatened to turn his love for her into something less than pure. Nothing worth fighting for comes without pain; tonight, he's ready to go to war.

Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time most certainly doesn't belong to me. If it did, there would've been fairy tale smut all up in Anton's beanstalk. And all over Neverland. Honestly, I would've traumatized Peter Pan the way Hook and Emma would've been behaving. But since it's not on HBO, and well, I don't get paid for anything I do with it, I can truly say, not it!

A/N: Yeah, this was supposed to be a hell of a lot more light hearted than what it came out to be. Just stick with me, I swear to god I believe in HEA. I'm really not sure why Killian felt the need to be all maudlin and broken and stuff for this chapter, but I tend to let my muse run with what she feels necessary. Toss her a cookie if you've got the mind, and let her know what you think.

~~~?~~~

It was long into the night as Killian Jones paced the quiet, dark streets of Storybrooke, Maine. Contrary to what was thought by the few who'd seen him, the leather clad man was stone cold sober, had no contrary plot in mind, and was not seeking trouble. No, he was doing the only thing he could to reign in the rampant emotions that were threatening to tear him apart; he was taking a beat, walking it off.

His world should have long since righted itself; with the threat of the wicked witch now passed, the citizens of Storybrooke were safely tucked into their homes, Henry was freed from her clutches and Emma was none the worse for wear. Regina remained safely enclosed in her white manor, the Charmings were settled into their new home with their new little prince, and even Killian himself was bedding down in the captain's cabin of the Jolly, moored at the Storybrooke docks, exactly where he belonged.

Everything should have been right, could have been right, perhaps even would have been right if he'd not fallen into the exact trap he'd avoided for three long and painful centuries. He scoffed lightly to himself as her name came to mind, a bitter taste in his mouth he could no longer blame on aged rum, and his battered heart rumbled to life, missing beats as it betrayed him for her. He'd not meant to pace his way to Granny's Inn, but the building stood in front of him anyhow, all the lights in the guest rooms dark but for one. Of course she'd not have settled down for the night, he'd left her not an hour before, high on warmed chocolate and cinnamon, vibrating from the sugar in the sweet confection that Ruby'd left to split between them.

Damnable pirate that he was, he'd watched her with lover's eyes all night. Took note in the extra curl to her long, blonde hair, drowned in the extra sparkle in her sea green eyes. His breath caught painfully suspended in his chest each time she moved close to him, her fingers trailing over his arm, his shoulder, his fingers or his hook. She'd danced with Henry as their friends celebrated their long awaited victory, looking very much the part of the saviour, surrounded by family, for one moment in time carefree and allowing herself the happiness she'd always kept an arms length out of reach. He'd mistakenly accepted her invitation to join her in dance, letting her lead him away from his seat at the bar by his hook, allowing her body to shift closer to him, moving to a rhythm she'd chosen from the music box nearby. He allowed her to torture him slowly, turning in his arms, pressing arse to thigh as she taunted him, encouraging his fingers to spread out against her flat stomach, holding her to him in a way he'd sacrifice absolutely anything to make permanent. Instead, the song ended and she spun again, moving lithely towards where her parents waited, taking a step out of her comfort zone and pulling her father out to share her next dance, leaving Killian to watch from the side once again as the world around him laughed and celebrated.

He couldn't pull his eyes from her, not for a second. He drank in every single moment of her happiness as though he were starved, and perhaps he truly was. Starved for Emma Swan, a weight more than one poor wretch in this land had bore, a fate he himself was destined to serve eternally.

He was surprised when she'd stayed behind as everyone else headed home, choosing to extend the time they had together into something more private, accepting the treats from Ruby as she and Granny closed the diner and left them to their own devices. It was not an unfamiliar scene, perhaps slightly more routine than his Swan would be comfortable admitting, and yet hardly enough to soothe the desperate burn in his soul. Perhaps he'd grown too accustomed to their time together, the only explanation for momentarily forgetting his place in her life as he'd leaned into her when it came time to part their ways.

She didn't stop him, perhaps the result of too much sugar, or the complacency brought on by their recent victory, and met his lips without the slightest of hesitation.

Christ, the groan that escaped his lips was embarrassing to say the least, but the press of her lips to his own was like coming home, and he lost himself in the sensation of her soft, sweet flesh. His heart pounded mercilessly in his chest as his lips moved over hers, his lungs burned with the need for air that he ignored while he lapped at her mouth encouragingly, pressing forward and into her the moment she opened for him. He lost himself entirely in the taste of her, her sweet little tongue duelling expertly with his, her warmth surrounding him, her legs suddenly around his hips as her back found a wall and he ground against her without remorse. His every wall crumbled and fell to ruins at his feet as he drowned in the feel of her against him, whimpering, moaning, sweet, sharp little cries escaping her when he left her lips for the soft flesh of her throat, his teeth cutting into her gently, his soul fed by the shiver she couldn't control when his tongue laved away the sting of his bite.

For one single moment in time, his world was utter perfection.

Perfection that shattered spectacularly when her mind caught up with her body and she stiffened against him. She should have been able to feel the violent implosion in his chest when she brought her hand up to push him away, her fingers directly over his heart as she put space between them, her eyes refusing his, her soul immediately hidden away within the fortress that she always required.

There weren't enough pieces of his heart left for him to retrieve when she finally found her voice, running her fingers through her hair as she shook her head, laughter without humour passing her red and kiss swollen lips.

"Shit," she cursed softly, swallowing thickly as she tried to bring light to her eyes to cover the lies of her denial. "What'd Ruby put in the hot chocolate?"

Normally, he'd play along with her, allow her to retreat, to hide herself away without the risk of damage, but he'd come too far, too fast, and his resolve to move at her pace finally snapped.

"One day, love, you'll realize it's not the drink at hand, a hint of gratitude, or the adrenaline of our adventure that brings you to my arms. Something you may want to consider whilst you lay alone tonight. Our lives truly don't come with a guarantee of tomorrow. Not anymore."

"What the hell, Hook? You kissed me." Her eyes flashed momentarily with guilt before she covered it with sharp anger, off step by the way he for once refused to play into her abject denial.

"Don't get all self righteous now, Princess, you gave as well as you took."

She spared him the sharpened edge of her tongue as she spun on her heel, leaving him alone in the darkened diner, returning to the percieved safety of her room at the inn.

She truly didn't see the fracture she'd caused inside him, the fissure of emptiness in his soul that grew with each and every rejection she forced him to endure or the way his once seemingly endless reservoir of hope had drained to a meagre offering. While he stood in the darkness on the sidewalk and watched as she moved through her room, the chill of the night seeping into his bones unnoticed, his traitorous heart still beating with every ounce of cursed love he harboured, Killian understood that she'd not meant to break him.

For once, he just couldn't help that she had.

Three hundred years ago, his life had splintered because of love. His love for Milah, her love for him, the crocodile's warped sense of love for her and their son. Love had easily blackened into a hatred so deep that no one who'd walked away from that confrontation had ever managed to truly recover. Killian's life had been ruled by vengeance to the point he'd failed to honestly live. The crocodile's life ruled by a dark power that stripped away his very identity. Even young Baelfire had suffered, his life ruled by losses he'd never been given the chance to understand: his mother, his father, his home, the sense of security every child should possess.

Love had been so powerful that without something permanent to ground it, they all three changed their lives in a fleeting moment that took from them more than they could afford to give. Even now, lesson long since learned, Killian felt bitterness and betrayal beginning to warp the love he held for Emma that until tonight he'd thought pure.

He needed something to ground him. Something to remind him that he had the patience necessary to wait out her fear. Something to drive into him every single time he looked in the mirror that Emma Swan would one day take her place at his side.

His blue eyes brightened as he spun on his heel, moving silently away from Granny's while an idea quickly formed, his step lightened, and the dark tendrils of poison slowly loosened their grip on his heart. He didn't notice her shadow shifting closer to the window, or the shade move as she peered out into the night. He certainly didn't notice her sorrow filled gaze as she watched him turn towards the more questionable part of their sleepy little town where a certain bar that tended to certain less savoury clientele was surely still to be open. With the distance between them he couldn't have noticed the tears that betrayed her, falling silently as she let the shade fall and turned out the light, realizing she had no right tonight to beg that he turn back and comfort her, forgive her.

The turbulence inside him smoothed over, and for the first time in quite a while, Killian felt at peace with what he was about to do. He'd spent the better part of the last years making choices that were selfless, putting others first and all that rot, all in an attempt to prove to Emma he could be the man that could put back together the broken pieces of her soul. He'd just lost track of the damage he was doing to his own in the process. Tonight, he would take the selfish road and do something entirely for his own peace of mind.

It wasn't like anyone would be around to see the result, anyhow. At least nobody that would care.

~~~TBC~~~

_Much like magic, all muses come with a price. My muse's price is the little button down below here. She can never have too much encouragement. _


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Permanent Measures

Part: 2/?

Author: Roguie – and all my other alternate personalities.

Fandom: Once Upon A Time

Pairing: Hook/Emma

Rating: Eventual M.

Spoilers: Up to and including 3x18 – Bleeding Through

Summary: Hook never stopped to realize the damage inflicted on his soul with each of his Swan's casual rejections until bitterness threatened to turn his love for her into something less than pure. Nothing worth fighting for comes without pain; tonight, he's ready to go to war.

Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time most certainly doesn't belong to me. If it did, I probably would have left Bae in his cage and had Emma and Hook sneak off to the nearest private point to commemorate Hook's courage in telling her his feels. But since it's not on HBO, and well, I don't get paid for anything I do with it, I can truly say, not it!

A/N: You guys rock! All the favorites, likes, follows, kudos and reviews have egged my muse on and she has eagerly taking from me my free will and has ordered me to do nothing but write. Normally my updates won't be quite as quick, but tonight, my muse has seen fit to provide. Thank you so much for all your encouragement!

~~~?~~~

Business was humming at the Rabbit Hole when Killian strolled through the door. He spared a nod towards several familiar faces as he slung his long leather jacket over his hooked arm and approached the bar. A cursory glance at the other patrons of the bar convinced him that the man he sought had not appeared as of yet; with that knowledge in hand, he ordered a rum and made his way to a dark corner, settling into the shadows, never taking his eyes off the door. The calm that had come over him whilst standing below the Savior's window remained, and it was with a casual eye that he watched the comings and goings of the club's clientele, knowing well the man he wanted, knowing well the history that came with him.

In Killian's world, this particular man had been responsible for putting to parchment the legends of romance and royalty, spinning yarns so brightly worded that each character became a hero, their names never forgotten through time. He made paupers princes, spun tales where maidens married kings from far away lands, brought to life what had only been rumor of shape shifting, ending the disbelief of curses so powerful that witches across the realm had cursed the man's name until he ceased to use it at all. Under his pen and ink holder, this man told the stories of dragons slain by princes hardly able to properly wield a sword, and those princes lived forever under the gratitude of their lands. His words brought life, magic and happily ever afters to each of his characters, without failure or hesitation. Whether it was something in the man himself, or something in the pen or ink that he used, Killian could never be sure, but the fact remained after the night he'd had, while he remained drowning in the despair for what his future may or may not hold, he'd leap at any offer of hope that could be provided.

The man wrote happily ever afters into parchment and they never failed to come true. Perhaps with a touch of ink he could do the same to flesh. Either way, Killian would not regret the choice he'd be making tonight. He'd bind himself to Emma Swan without repent, and pray to the gods of the sea that someone would listen to the despairing cries of his heart.

He was four tumblers of rum and an hour into the night when the door opened once more, and the man in question entered the bar. He watched the man in quiet thought for long moments, swirling the last traces of liquor in his glass before swallowing the amber liquid in one fluid movement and climbing to his feet with determination. He once again approached the bar, this time, however, he slung his coat over his good arm, allowing his hook to drag lightly along the top of the bar as he came up beside the newcomer.

"Poet." He stated quietly, nodding to the bartender for another rum as he took an empty seat.

The man eyed his hook nervously, glancing from the pirate's distinctive features back again to the hook, then to the rum as the bartender slid it towards Killian.

"Captain." He answered, his tone wavering with nerves he wasn't quite successful in hiding.

"I find myself in need of your particular skills, Poet. I need a story told. I need it told in three words."

The man swallowed quickly, coughing on his draft as it slid down the wrong pipe, his cheeks flushing pink. "I.. I go by Patrick in this land, Captain, and I'm afraid that I'm long out of practice with what you ask."

Killian rolled his eyes and sighed, the temptation to take the man by his collar and bend him to his will almost too much to overcome, and his hook twitched with anticipation. Instead, however, he reached into the pocket of his coat and withdrew a small pouch, tossing it to the top of the bar, allowing the corded end to fall open and the gems within to spill outward towards the poet.

"I have need of your services, Poet, and I'm willing to compensate highly for that need. In fact," Killian raised his hook, running the sharpened tip lightly across his shirt as though polishing the shining metal. "I'm willing to do just about anything in my power to acquire those services."

His point made, Killian took his rum, downing the entire glass in a single breath as the poet considered his options.

"Do you have a parchment in mind?"

Killian smiled slowly, lifting an eyebrow as he nodded. "You'll have the entirety of my back with which to work. Three words, Poet, and I'll walk back out of your life, leaving you to your peace."

"My god, Captain. My ink on the skin, it would be permanent. The story could never be untold. You don't know what you're asking."

"I'm bound for life as it stands, mate. Your words make the matter no more permanent to me than it already is."

"Then why? Why tread where you've no need?"

"I'm a pirate, mate. I go where I'm not needed or wanted any given day of my life. In this case, I've a stubborn lass who'll not believe forever when it's handed to her. We've already been bound together in curse, adventure and heart, I need your words now to bind us throughout time."

"If they're your words, Captain, they're your story. They'll have no effect on her."

"Not my concern. If I doubted for a second the lass wanted any less than me, Poet, I'd not be here. She needs what the words represent, not the story they'll tell."

"If she doesn't... if she isn't... Captain, if she doesn't choose you, you'll never be able to unchoose her."

"Aye, a curse I'm already well familiar with. I am aware of the consequences."

The poet sighed, lifting his drink to his lips, draining the draft with gasping swallows. "Payment will be required."

Killian shifted his eyes to the bar, nudging the bag of gems closer to the poet. "More than what I've offered would amount to gluttony, Poet. A trait of any good pirate, for sure, but not a respectful bard as yourself."

"You misunderstand, Captain. It all comes with a price." The poet lowered his voice, leaning closer to Killian, his whisper harsh. "A non mortal price."

The pirate swallowed heavily, his teeth grinding together as he glared daggers at the man before him. "What will it require?"

"For what you're asking, it will need a payment equal to the reward." The poet's eyes glanced downward to the tattoo on Killian's arm, barely covered by the well worn leather of his jacket.

The pirate jerked his hand back reflexively, his arm immediately protected against his chest as a low growl built on his lips. "You ask too much!"

"Then your need isn't as great as you believed."

Raw emotion tore across Killian's face as he snarled at the poet, his hook raised between them, whether to rend or protect he was unsure, knowing only the shade of red that glazed his sight and the need to scream building in his chest.

He'd given so much already in his pursuit of Emma bloody Swan. She'd taken from him his revenge when he'd put aside his will to kill the crocodile. She'd taken from him his heart in the jungles of Neverland. She'd taken his happiness when she walked out of his life. She'd taken his piracy when she rewrote the very fabric of his soul. She'd taken his home when he'd come back to her, knowing he'd never be able to willingly part from her again.

Could he honestly give her Milah, on top of everything he'd already sacrificed?

He had let go of his anger, his pain; the tattoo was everything he had left. Allowing it to be taken was basically the equivalent to ridding himself of her. Finally. Completely. Without her, the last three hundred years were without meaning.

Unless he could change the meaning.

Giving up the last piece of the man he'd been could only leave the road open to become the man he now wished to be.

He'd already proven he couldn't go back.

His only option was forward.

His only option was Emma, no matter what it cost him.

"You've made your deal, Poet. Take your payment and be quick about it."

The poet stared at him silently for a moment before nodding and rising to his feet. "Not here, Captain. If you'll follow me to my shop, we'll conduct our business in a more private environment. You'll understand if I don't care to have my realm identity broadcast amongst this lot?"

Killian scoffed quietly before following the man to the door, slinging his leather over his shoulders and ducking out into the night.

"Take the walk to reconsider the price, Captain. When we sit down with the ink, there will be no chance to renege."

"Less talk, Poet. The faster this task is complete, the faster I walk out of your life."

They were at the small shop in mere moments, the door open and Killian seated inside before he even realized they'd passed over the threshold.

A piece of thick leather was handed to him as well as a small piece of paper and a regular blue ink pen. "Write your words, Captain. Exactly as you wish them to be seen. When you're finished, bite down on this leather hard; the price will be paid at the same time as our deal takes design. You will not be spared the sensation."

"Poet, I've lost my hand to a crocodile and my heart to a blonde. There's no matter of pain in this realm that I cannot handle without a meager strip of leather to hold back the screams."

"The choice is yours. I'd heed my advice, but you'll learn in time. Now write. I've a beer to return to and the hour grows late."

Killian drew out his design in moments, handing the paper back to the poet without word.

"In calligraphy then?"

"Aye."

"Shoulder to shoulder?"

"And straight down the spine."

Killian pulled his shirt from his body and leaned forward, gripping the table in front of him with his good hand.

"Deal."

With that single word, the pain began. At first it was just a slight burn in his arm, a tingle where the ancient drawing of sword and heart bled into his flesh. He felt the piercing of the new words across his back more than he felt the old ink being pulled from his skin.

For a moment.

When that moment passed and their deal leapt into action, it was sheer will power that controlled the scream of agony that wanted to rip from his chest. Thick tendrils of smoke weaved upwards from his arm, the stench of burning flesh filled the room as the dark tattoo began to bubble and melt away. Killian's eyes rolled back in his head, his teeth bit deep into his lip, his fingers clutched helplessly at the table, his hook digging in, his only hold on reality as the pain threatened to overwhelm his mind.

Not for a second did it ease up, not for a single bloody moment of time whilst the poet inked the new words into his back and down his spine. For every inch of new ink that layered into his skin, a new inch of flesh bubbled and melted, dripping black and red to the floor below him, Milah's name blurring into an unrecognizable blob.

He felt for sure there'd be bone to be seen when he gathered the courage to look down, but for each bit of flesh torn away with his old tattoo, fresh pink skin appeared beneath. Piece by piece the heart and sword were erased and replaced, the darkness that once read Milah the only mar left as the poet worked quickly down his spine.

How much time had passed? A minute? An hour? An entire bloody day?

Killian's body was stiff with his agony, his shoulders set against it, his eyes wide open now as he watched the last piece of his first love disappear into liquid flesh, only to stain the wood beneath his feet. When the poet completed his work, it was as if the tattoo had never existed.

The final flourish on the final letter ended the heated torture as his debt paid in full, and the poet backed away, eying the fresh tattoo with a slow shake of his head.

"You've condemned yourself, Captain, I hope you realize."

Killian scoffed roughly, closing his eyes against the emptiness on his arm only to turn from where he sat and open them to face the poet. "I'd done that long before we crossed paths, Poet. The gems are yours as payment. This is where we'll part ways."

"Don't you want to see the piece?"

"Is it exactly what I gave you?"

"Of course."

"Then looking at it is unnecessary. My thanks, Poet, but I'll say goodnight."

Killian pulled his shirt back over his shoulders, the slight burn in his back nothing compared to the agony he'd felt mere moments before. He lifted his jacket onto his shoulders and with head held high, strode out of the building and into the night.

If asked, the word across his shoulders would account for the tenderness of his flesh. He'd dip the top of his collar and allow them to see the fresh bit of ink that put his heart at peace.

What traveled down his spine, however, was for one woman's eyes alone. She was not yet ready to read the two words that now lived on his flesh, not yet ready to know the permanence to which he'd now sworn his existence, but it was enough for him to know they were there. For now.

The walk back to the Jolly Roger was swift, and he tore the cloth from his shoulders as soon as the door to his cabin closed behind him. He'd lied to the poet when he said he didn't need to see the words. He needed to see them daily. He needed to know she was with him even in the moments that she pulled away.

He pulled two mirrors to face each other and stood between them, shifting just slightly to read the words that now scarred his back in the blackest ink he'd ever set eyes upon.

PERSEVERE stained him shoulder to shoulder.

EMMA SWAN laid claim to his spine.

The words intersected at their mutual "E" to form a T shape across his back in perfect symmetry.

The work was well done, the calligraphy sharp and clean. On another night Killian would have been impressed with the quality of the inking and perhaps have offered a kind word to the poet before leaving his company.

Tonight, however, he lost himself in the way her name lay claim to his body in every way he wished the woman herself would do, but then, that was the magic of the ink and the poet he'd gone to see.

He would persevere. He would ride out any storm. He would fight at her side. He would never leave.

Those were the promises he offered her, promises that the ink made permanent, binding him to Emma in a way she couldn't begin to understand. Moving on from her was no longer an option, not that it had ever been before, but with the ink, his heart and soul were irrevocably entwined with her life. He'd made Emma Swan his story and as such, she held the key to his happily ever after.

He belonged to her in every way.

Now he just needed her to believe.

~~~TBC~~~

_Much like magic, all muses come with a price. My muse's price is the little button down below here. She can never have too much encouragement. _


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Permanent Measures

Part: 3/?

Author: Roguie – and all my other alternate personalities.

Fandom: Once Upon A Time

Pairing: Hook/Emma

Rating: Eventual M.

Spoilers: Up to and including 3x19 – A Curious Thing

Summary: Hook never stopped to realize the damage inflicted on his soul with each of his Swan's casual rejections until bitterness threatened to turn his love for her into something less than pure. Nothing worth fighting for comes without pain; tonight, he's ready to go to war.

Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time most certainly doesn't belong to me. If it did, there would have been less accusations and more gratitude in last night's episode. And a whole lot of curse breaking up in that dock. But since it's not on HBO, and well, I don't get paid for anything I do with it, I can truly say, not it!

A/N: Ah part three... where you may wonder whether I did say if this was a Captain Swan fic or not... but rest assured, this is the last little bit of setup. Your favourites, follows, likes, reviews, comments, bookmarks, re-blogs, etc, mean the world to me and to my muse, who is a slave to knowing people are enjoying what she's provided.

~~~?~~~

Days passed with unending silence stretching between Killian and Emma. He ran into her the morning following their fallout, sitting at Granny's, sipping hot chocolate as he came through the door. Perhaps it was the hesitation in his step when he set eyes upon her, the small falter sending the wrong signal her way, allowing her enough time to decide on avoidance before he recovered. She was on her feet and brushing past him without so much as a word, losing herself amongst the Storybrooke townspeople milling about, preparing to start their day before he'd even had the chance to speak her name.

A deep sigh slipped past his lips, his head dropping marginally as he carefully structured the look on his face before taking his usual seat at the counter. Granny appeared in front of him, slid a steaming cup of coffee into his hand and lifted a curious eyebrow.

"Now I'm not one to comment on another person's private life, as you well know, but the temperature around here just dropped rather perceptibly."

Killian shrugged slightly, reaching out to toy with the warm mug. "Noticed that, did you?"

Granny scoffed sharply. "I'm old, not blind, pirate. Should I bother asking what you did to encourage the wrath of the saviour?"

"Simply a case of pointing out the obvious. I swear I've done nothing nefarious, if that's the point to your questions."

"I'll give you a piece of advice, then leave the matter to rest. Life is short. We've lost more than a few in this town, and it's a heavy burden to overcome. Most men don't learn this until well into marriage, but I'll tell you this now. Whatever it was, apologize." When he moved to protest, she held up a finger, tutting quietly. "That is your job, to apologize. Or you can continue the way you've been going, since it's obviously working so well in your favour." She winked at him slyly, patting his hand before turning to help the next person waiting.

"Seven hells," he cursed quietly, wondering if even an apology would bring Emma around at this point. She'd been pissed at him before, but not the the extent of ignoring him completely. She was usually one to tie him up and take her pound of flesh before moving past whatever blunder he'd caused. One of the things he most respected about her, if he were being honest; she'd never been one to play games.

Unfortunately, offering Emma an apology was harder than Granny made it seem. The next few days passed slowly; aside from the first day, Emma always made sure to be gone from Granny's before he stopped in throughout the morning. He only ever knew that she'd been there by the obvious shake to Granny's head and the quiet tick of her tongue against her teeth as she chastised him without words. He'd heard the mutterings amongst the townspeople of the saviour's ill temper of late, though no one seemed to realize the cause. Once again, only Granny ever lifted a pointed eyebrow in his direction when Emma became the topic of conversation.

It wasn't until the fifth day that he realized how far out of hand things had gotten. The doors to Granny's blew open and Regina stormed through, her eyes dark clouds of rolling thunder as she found the pirate at the counter and immediately moved to stand behind him, hands on her hips, a determined grimace on her face.

"Whatever it is that you've done, you're going to fix it. Now."

Killian blinked calmly and slowly turned his head to face her. "Good morning to you, too, Regina. A pleasure as always."

"Cut the crap, pirate. I received notification this morning that your Miss Swan is intending to take my son back to New York at the end of the week."

Killian tried in vain to keep the sudden splintering of his heart from showing in his expressive blue eyes as he struggled to hold the Queen's accusing gaze. "And what, pray tell, has that to do with me?"

Regina scowled darkly. "Don't even try to pretend this isn't entirely your fault. When Henry retrieved his memories, we were all in agreeance that he and Miss Swan would remain in Storybrooke and our arrangement from last year would continue uninterrupted. Apparently this is no longer the case, and I can only assume that would be a direct result of the rumours in town that the two of you are no longer on speaking terms. What I want to know is exactly how you intend to rectify whatever it is that caused this situation."

Killian stared at her blankly, his mask of calm slipping away as he read the truth and desperation in her eyes. His head dipped forward slightly and he turned away, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I have no answer for you," he murmured quietly.

"I can't let her take my son," she replied evenly, resting a hand on his shoulder to take any sting out of her words. "You..." she paused, eyes narrowing as her gaze shifted to where their bodies connected, releasing her hold on him as the tell tale tingle of magic spread up her arm. "What. The. Hell?"

Killian stiffened, finally spinning on his chair to glare at her in warning. "Quiet, woman!" he snapped quickly, glancing in concern at the remaining diners, all of whom were watching them converse with curiosity.

"I recognize the fingerprint of magic when I feel it, Captain. What have you done?"

"Nothing that affects anyone but yours truly. Now if you don't mind, I really would rather keep this very private conversation just that, private."

Regina clenched her teeth, glaring darkly at him as she jerked her chin towards the staircase at the back of the diner. "I have access to a room upstairs. It would be in both our best interests to continue this conversation there, in that case."

Her tone left no room for argument as she spun on her heel and disappeared through the doorway. When Killian didn't immediately follow, she reappeared in the door and lifted an eyebrow as she caught his gaze. "I'm sorry, Captain, I must not have made myself clear. My request for a private meeting was non optional."

He sighed as he climbed to his feet, quickly checking his pocket to ensure his flask was close at hand before following Regina up the stairs and to one of the first rooms on the left hand side of the hall. As the door fell shut behind him, he smirked at the queen saucily, and kicked at a pair of mens boots on the floor. "Exactly whose room would this be?"

"If that were any less your concern, pirate, you'd not be able to form the words to even ask."

"And yet, the status of my non-relationship with Swan is your concern?"

"Anything that affects my son is my concern. My number one concern, in fact. Now, take off that shirt."

Killian coughed lightly, staring at the queen in quiet disbelief. "I beg your pardon?"

Regina rolled her eyes. "I'm sure I spoke in single syllable words, specifically so that you could better understand my request. I'll repeat myself only once. Take off your shirt. Now."

Killian's expression shifted into one of mock shock and humility, before he narrowed his eyes and gave her his most sultry grin. "Your highness, I had no idea your feelings for me ran quite so deep. I'm honoured and yet strangely unsurprised. I always knew that there was more between us than just mutual revulsion."

"Oh, for the love of God! What that woman sees in you will remain a mystery throughout time!"

"And yet, you're the one demanding my clothes. Love."

With a look of absolute disgust, Regina waved her hand quickly. His shirt and coat disappeared into a cloud of purple smoke, leaving him standing only in his black leather pants. He lifted an eyebrow and grinned at her, pressing his hook to his hip and waving his hand in a quick flourish while he bowed exaggeratedly low. "I do hope I don't disappoint, Majesty."

"It always has to be the hard road with you, doesn't it? Are you going to turn around willingly, or do I have to do that myself as well? And quit bowing, you look like an idiot."

Killian clenched his jaw tightly, all the humour bleeding out of his eyes as he turned in place, allowing Regina a full view of the fresh ink layering his back.

"You must have paid quite the price for that binding," she murmured quietly, the bite immediately fading from her voice.

"Aye."

"I had no idea that the poet could use flesh as a catalyst. Scrolls can be destroyed to end the magic. This seems a great deal more permanent." She moved closer, running a warm finger across Emma's name trailing down his spine. "Preventing her from leaving town would obviously be mutually beneficial," she continued, quietly, lifting an eyebrow in suggestion.

"I'll not join with you against Emma, Regina. Not in this life or the next."

"Considering what you've done to yourself, Captain, I can't say that I'm surprised." She paused in thought for a moment before moving back across the room, an idea visibly brewing behind her shrewd gaze. "No, once again it's going to fall to me to fix your rather impressive blunders."

Killian turned to eye her with trepidation. "I'd rather you left this to me. Any interference on your part could set me back greatly in the progress I've made with her."

"And risk losing my son for the sake of your _feelings_? I think not." With a flick of her wrist, his clothing reappeared on the floor in front of him and she opened the door to the room. "Redressing now would be the appropriate option, Captain."

Before she could exit the room, Killian reached out, hooking her arm and holding her in place. His eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What exactly are you planning?"

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with at the moment."

"Regina..."

She pulled her arm free of his grip, holding up a hand for his silence. "Mutually beneficial, Captain. It's best you remember that while I'm feeling somewhat generous. Let me do what I do best and this will turn out in both our favours."

With that she exited the room, disappearing down the stairs with a determined stride. Killian cursed softly as he pulled his shirt and coat back over his body, rushing to follow the queen out of the diner, only to lose her as she climbed into her car and drove off.

For a moment he stood watching helplessly as she vanished down the road, before sighing and running a hand through his hair in frustration. The queen was hatching a plan to spin events in her best interest, something that never seemed to work the way she intended. The last time, she'd cost him twenty eight years of his life.

As the burn of the fresh tattoo on his back intensified, leaving him painfully aware of how deep under his skin Emma had burrowed, Killian couldn't help wonder what fresh hell this new plan would bring about.

Or, for that matter, what it would cost him now that he had everything to lose.

~~~TBC~~~

_Much like magic, all muses come with a price. My muse's price is the little box below; please don't make her chase you for payment._


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Permanent Measures

Part: 4/?

Author: Roguie – and all my other alternate personalities.

Fandom: Once Upon A Time

Pairing: Hook/Emma

Rating: Eventual M.

Spoilers: Up to and including 3x19 – A Curious Thing

Summary: Hook never stopped to realize the damage inflicted on his soul with each of his Swan's casual rejections until bitterness threatened to turn his love for her into something less than pure. Nothing worth fighting for comes without pain; tonight, he's ready to go to war.

Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time most certainly doesn't belong to me. If it did, I'd have had Hook and Emma defile Rumpelstiltskin's cage in the EF, rather than use it to betray each other. But since it's not on HBO, and well, I don't get paid for anything I do with it, I can truly say, not it!

A/N: What's this you say? Hook and Emma are in the same chapter? Omg! It IS a Captain Swan fic. ;) So, you know that moment in time where your little one shot, Hook gets an Emma tattoo idea, takes off and breaks 10k words? Yeah. We're pretty much there. Fair warning, I have dubbed this chapter as "What in the World is Wrong With Killian Jones?" Anyone care to hazard a guess? ;)

For those of you waiting for the conclusion to Precursor to a Kiss, it should be up in the next day or so, I'm about halfway through... I've been distracted by pretty Tumblr photosets, and my muse seems to want to work on this fic above all else. ;) Your favorites, follows, likes, reviews, comments, bookmarks, re-blogs, etc, mean the world to me and to my muse, who is a slave to knowing people are enjoying what she's provided.

~~~?~~~

He knew something was off before he opened his eyes. The familiar lull and sway of the Jolly Roger was gone and rather than the comfort of his soft mattress, something hard and sharp jabbed distinctly into his side.

"The hell?"

His body stiffened as he startled awake, immediately snapping into a seated position, his hand moving to his hip only to realize that his sword was not attached. Mercifully whatever had taken him had neglected to remove his hook, so he was left with some way of protecting himself, but still, a feeling of unease crept over him as his eyes began to adjust to the darkness.

Something shifted nearby him, the rustling of movement as loud as a gunshot in the otherwise silent room.

"The hell?"

His body immediately relaxed at the sound of her voice, the sweet sound sending tendrils of comfort over his brain, reminding him instantly that wherever she is, he's home.

His disbelieving chuckle filled the chamber with throaty vibrations, and he moved awkwardly to stand to his feet.

"Seriously, that's like the creepiest shit ever, so can it with the laughter. Who the hell is there?"

He chuckled again, unable to help himself as he shook his head at the bravado in her voice. "Just me, love."

He heard the breath escape her lungs in relief and practically felt the tension bleed from her body as she shifted and rose in the dark. "Jesus, you scared the shit out of me. What's going on?"

"I'm not exactly sure at the moment, though if I were to hazard a guess, I'd say we've been kidnapped." He paused. "This is much more pleasant than my last abduction, at least. I've discovered that I don't fit very well into the trunk of automobiles. It was awkward and somewhat painful." He grinned into the dark, allowing levity to lighten his tone. "At least our captor had the good sense to give us room to move in here."

He listened as she laughed softly, her hands cutting through air until she found the hard rock of the tunnel wall and began following it towards the sound of his voice. He couldn't protect either of them from the hitch in his breath as her fingers found his arm, sliding further over his body, splaying out across his warm chest and anchoring herself to him in the inky darkness. The hurt from the last few days of silence surged but for a brief moment he allowed himself the mere pleasure of having her close to him once again.

"Any ideas who we've pissed off this time?"

His laughter rolled through his chest in a soft rumble, her gentle touch setting him inexplicably at ease, even given their situation. "Not a clue, love. Though perhaps you're better to answer that query as I have found myself somewhat out of the loop in the days past." His tone was pointed and he braced himself for the withdraw of her touch. He was legitimately surprised when her fingers remained in place, even as a deep sigh passed her lips.

"Can we put a hold on this conversation until we get out of here?" she asked gently.

"As you wish." He paused, fighting his next words but unable to stop them from escaping through the heartache that had manifested in the hours since his conversation with Regina. "So long as you vow to have said conversation prior to running off to New York. I'd hate to have to maneuver the Jolly Roger back through that dreaded harbor. Once was more than bloody enough."

He left the cutting tease between them, but he felt her stiffen. "Hook…"

The blasted moniker broke what was left of his battered resolve and his shoulders slumped in resignation before he even realized how much it meant to hear his true name on her lips, or how badly it hurt to have her deny him that. She felt him break, it was impossible to miss, as was the sharp intake of her breath in realization.

"Killian…"

"Right you are, love. Best to focus on the situation at hand, sort the rest out later." The words were spoken with a light tone, but even in the darkness she could tell they came through a jaw clenched with tension.

Her hand fell slowly from his chest as she bit back words of apology that she didn't know if he wanted to hear. He groaned as she took her touch from him, the sudden sound loud and harsh in the enclosed space.

"Are you hurt?" she asked sharply, immediately bringing both hands back to him, running gentle fingers over his chest and arms, feeling for anything out of the ordinary. She couldn't help but feel the instant relaxation in his muscles as she touched him again, a small furrow of confusion appearing between her brows.

He swallowed thickly, breathing through the new feeling that came with her touch. Just the brush of her fingers across his arm was enough to bleed away the wounded anger he'd been harboring. The tattoo made itself known once again, a low burn now, almost comforting while she remained in contact. When she stole her touch from him, however, that low burn was more like a brand, reminding him of exactly the choice he'd made. His breath was heavy upon his lips as he closed his eyes in the darkness, wondering if perhaps this time he'd gambled with more than he could afford. He'd been warned. All magic comes with a price; if she indeed left for New York, he realized now, he would not yet have come close to paying the dues demanded. Pushing those thoughts to the side for the moment, he considered his next words carefully, ensuring to tell her the most truth as possible.

"Nothing of concern. I felt the urge for a new tattoo to commemorate the new path my life has taken since the last. The dampness in this cavern is adversely affecting the fresh wound. A dull ache only. It will fade in time."

She couldn't see his eyes to tell if he was lying to her, but since she'd been taken with no ill effects, she had to assume he was speaking the truth.

"A new tattoo? What'd you get? The Jolly Roger across your back?" she teased lightly, trying desperately to get back to the light hearted back and forth they'd always shared.

"No, love, something far more dear to me than my ship." It was said with such seriousness that a chill ran down her spine, and she immediately pulled her hands back to herself. She listened carefully as this time he smothered his groan of discomfort behind a deep chuckle that lacked any kind of true mirth.

"You love that ship more than anything," she murmured, sudden doubt making her voice rough with unasked questions.

"More than most, but not everything," he corrected gently, turning in place and feeling along the wall, stepping forward to indicate the end of the conversation. "Think you can come up with a little of that white magic to lead the way, Swan?" he asked lightly as he moved deftly out of her reach, following the wall along what he realized now was an underground corridor.

"Uh, sure?" She bit back the hurt that threatened to cut through her voice and focused on the tips of her fingers. Sure enough, a dim light began to fill the tunnel, growing brighter with each passing moment.

He couldn't help himself as the deep pride he felt for her shone in his blue eyes, keeping his gaze firmly set to the tunnel ahead of them so she wouldn't see the depths she could affect him with so very little. "Very nice work, love," he murmured, and in the shadows, the slightest hint of a smile softened his features.

"Next time ask for something difficult," she grinned back at him saucily.

A sharp bark of laughter passed his lips and he shook his head as they moved forward.

"Hey, is this starting to look familiar to you?" she asked suddenly, as the mouth of the tunnel slowly began to open into a chamber filled with rock debris.

Killian's jaw tightened as he nodded. "Quite, unfortunately."

"You don't think…"

"Best to keep your voice down, love, just in case."

His hand immediately went to his hip, a low curse passing his lips as he realized yet again he was left without his sword.

"Were you left with anything to protect yourself? A weapon of any sort?"

Emma sucked her lower lip between her teeth as she shook her head slowly. "I didn't have my gun on when I went to sleep," she shrugged quietly. "So, little glowing ball of white light, it is."

Killian glanced down at himself, realizing he'd fallen asleep fully clothed the night before. He must have been exhausted; he couldn't even remember climbing from the deck to his cabin after he'd worked long into the night, mapping the stars of this realm. He'd not even removed his coat or hook. A random thought struck him and he froze in place, swallowing thickly as a fog of poorly disguised desire filled his mind. "You were taken from sleep?" he queried.

"Yeah, y'know, Henry was staying with Regina for the night, so Ruby and I were up pretty late. It's been a while since I've spent any time just drinking and talking with someone. I couldn't have gotten ready for bed before two or three in the morning."

He groaned softly, remaining in place long enough that Emma, not realizing he'd not started walking again, walked directly into him, darting out the hand that wasn't controlling their only light source and wrapping it around his body to steady herself. When she was sure she wasn't going to fall, she went to remove her hand, only to find her fingers suddenly covered by his and held firmly against his chest.

"What?" She immediately dropped her voice to a whisper, shifting to speak directly by his ear. "Did you see something?"

Killian drew in a long breath, shaking his head lightly in an attempt to free himself from the sudden haze that clouded his thoughts as he dragged his warm fingers over her hand, pausing to stroke a feather light touch across the inside of her wrist, swallowing heavily at the feel of her incredibly soft skin under the calluses that layered his long fingers. He knew it was inappropriate, but he couldn't seem to stop himself from touching her. He'd been denied so bloody long.

"Quite the opposite, love," he swallowed against the rough growl his voice adopted as he trailed his fingers further up her arm, meeting nothing but bare flesh every inch of the journey. "It's what I didn't see that brought pause to my step."

He released her arm the second he'd gone far enough to realize that whatever she was wearing covered no more than those infernal tops she insisted on sporting beneath her daily blouse. Only this time, she wore nothing to hide the scantity of the fabric that acted as a second skin. Keeping his back to her, he pressed his hook against the tunnel wall, running his hand through his hair and down his face as he struggled in vain to rid his mind of its suddenly lascivious imaginings of what she could consider proper sleepwear.

She moved beside him, laying a hand on his shoulder, bringing the light between them. She couldn't piece together what was going on inside of him; he kept cycling through emotions, over reacting in humor, in anger, in hurt, and now? "Okay, seriously, what is your problem?"

He opened his eyes only to be met with the sight of her long legs, bare as far up as he could see. He almost whimpered as he drank in the view of her skin, glowing in the strange iridescent light of her magic. She wore only a small pair of royal blue boy shorts that hid nothing from his rampant imagination. The matching tank top barely reached her hips, covering so little that it was more a tease than clothing. His undoing, however, was the sight of her perfectly manicured toes, bare of any footwear, nails painted the same exact shade of blue as her sleeping attire. The woman was dressed for seduction, and Killian couldn't help but harden painfully as he finally realized how little lay between his hand and her warm flesh.

"By the gods, woman, what are you bloody well wearing?"

She stiffened immediately in response, slow to catch up but not to react as she stepped away from him and tugged at the tank top uselessly, only managing to bare a great deal more cleavage to his starving gaze. "Hey! Get a hold of yourself, buddy, it's not like I planned to be taken from my bed in the middle of the goddamned night!"

He struggled to regain control over the pirate inside of him. He struggled not to take the opening and run away with it. His history with Emma had taught him nothing if it hadn't taught him that lewd commentary only got him punched in the face. It was funny, though, how little control he had of his mouth in that very moment.

"I could get a hold of myself, love, and I'm sure you'd not be able to tear your eyes away given the option, however I'd much rather you do the task for me."

And there he was, the pirate she knew so very well as he straightened his stance and turned to face her full on, making no attempt to hide his body's reaction to the sight of her. Emma's mouth immediately went dry as her traitorous eyes skimmed downward, widening at the impressive strain being pressed upon the meager ties of his leather pants.

"Killian," she tried, a note of wary warning in her voice. "This is so not the time for this conversation."

His eyes narrowed and he stalked towards her slowly, backing her against the opposite wall, lowering his head until his breath burned a warm trail across her collar bone. His hook moved between her breasts, hooking the hem of her shirt lightly and pulling it ever so gently away from her body as his eyes followed, stealing a shadowed view. "I'm sorry, love, I hadn't realized we were conversing. I find acting much more pleasant than idle chatter."

"Killian, back off. I'm serious!"

He sighed deeply, allowing her shirt to snap back in place, lowering his hook to her hip instead. "Of course you are, princess, you're never anything but bloody serious, are you?"

"This is not the place…"

His eyes flashed with dangerous darkness as all amusement fled his features and he was left towering over her, his body trembling with the force of his control. "Then tell me where the hell is? Certainly not aboard my ship, given we've had plenty of opportunity there. Definitely not at the inn where there are doors you can lock yourself behind. Not in the bloody Enchanted Forest or in the jungles of sodding Neverland, either. There will never be a right place for you to lower yourself to play with the love sick pirate, will there?"

"I never said…"

"Quite right. You've never said. You've never said a god forsaken word about anything, Swan. Not even your actions speak for you anymore. Were you going to tell me you were leaving for New York? Or were you just going to keep on avoiding me until it was too late? Was I just supposed to wake up one morning and find you gone? Well, guess what, love, I've done that once already and had a piss poor time about it, too."

Emma gaped at him in surprise, words escaping her as she shook her head slowly, lifting a hand to his chin and forcing him to meet her eyes. Truth, desperation and utter devastation warred for supremacy in his gaze, all underlied by lust tinged with something darker, something deeper, something to which she was afraid to give name. Tears filled her eyes in response to what she saw in him, and the fight immediately fled from his frame as once again defeat set in above all else.

"Not to worry, love, I'll put the pieces back together myself when we're done here." He sighed, turning away from her and starting down the tunnel once more. "Though if you've any interest in escaping here with your honor intact, I'd suggest dimming that bloody light. You're far too sweet a temptation for this old pirate to resist for long."

He made it less than ten feet down the tunnel before Emma snapped. If she'd had on shoes she would have stomped her foot like a child. Instead, she settled for growling in rage and frustration, clenching her fists so hard that her light fully extinguished, leaving them deep in the darkness that remained.

"You just wait one goddamned minute, Killian Jones! You don't get to just lose your shit on me and then walk away! I may have something to say about this, you know!"

A low moan sounded somewhere ahead of them in the dark, sending chills down both their spines as it was followed by the unmistakable sound of flesh slapping against hard rock.

Killian cleared his throat and spun back towards her, his heart thumping wildly in his chest as he tried to determine how close the sounds were to them, his spiraling emotions once again firmly under control as self preservation overcame anything else at hand. "To borrow one of your turns of phrase, I'll have to insist that this is not the time."

"Agreed!" She squeaked, softly.

He was back in her personal space in the blink of an eye, his arms coming around her as he faced her back the way they came and away from the approach of the squelching footsteps of Maleficent's rotting corpse.

"I suggest we run, love."

~~~TBC~~~

_Much like magic, all muses come with a price. My muse's price is the little box down below. Please don't make her chase you for payment._


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Permanent Measures

Part: 5/?

Author: Roguie – and all my other alternate personalities.

Fandom: Once Upon A Time

Pairing: Hook/Emma

Rating: Eventual M.

Spoilers: Up to and including 3x20 – Kansas

Summary: Hook never stopped to realize the damage inflicted on his soul with each of his Swan's casual rejections until bitterness threatened to turn his love for her into something less than pure. Nothing worth fighting for comes without pain; tonight, he's ready to go to war.

Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time most certainly doesn't belong to me. If it did, Hook would be showing Swan over and over exactly what he can do with his one hand, preferably somewhere Charming can walk in on; a mild trauma just to make up for the canon fodder comment. But since it's not on HBO, and well, I don't get paid for anything I do with it, I can truly say, not it!

A/N: And we pick up right where we left off. Oddly this part was written prior to Hook actually calling Emma out in Kansas – made me giggle a bit at the whole being happy with you comment. Had to wave my notebook in my husband's face Sunday night and point it out to him, possibly shrieking slightly, until it was taken from me for apparent safety concerns. LOL Enjoy!

I thoroughly apologize for not responding to reviews - I'm normally don't suck quite as hard at it, I've just been stupid busy real time, and then every second I sit down I've been writing lately. That said, this chapter's reviews will be answered as I've a few days off work on my horizon. \o/

Your favorites, follows, likes, reviews, comments, bookmarks, re-blogs, etc, mean the world to me and to my muse, who is a slave to knowing people are enjoying what she's provided.

~~~?~~~

They ran through the dark corridor for several long minutes, shoulders brushing rock walls, feet catching debris that threatened to knock them to the floor. When they'd felt they'd run far enough to evade the monstrosity that was Maleficent for the moment, Killian drew to a stop, turning to catch Emma in his arms as they fought to catch their collective breaths.

"I haven't heard her in a good minute or so, lass. She's likely retreated back to her chamber in an attempt to wait us out."

Emma groaned quietly, sliding to the ground, using the tunnel wall to support her as she rested. "Seriously, what's it going to take to put her down for good?"

A low chuckle was her response. "I can't honestly say. The last time she and I parted ways on poor terms. I don't think the dear has forgotten."

Emma snorted quietly. "Yeah, well she and I aren't exactly BFFs either."

"I cut random pieces off of her, apparently for no reason at all as she reassembled near immediately."

"I ran her through with my father's sword and left her here to rot."

"Impressive, love."

"I try."

Emma concentrated for a moment and brought back the little ball of light to give them some relief from the darkness.

"Any ideas on how to escape here, Swan?" Hook glanced down the corridor, sighing as it seemed to carry on through the darkness endlessly.

"Not a clue. The last time I had to drag myself up an elevator shaft by my fingernails. It wasn't the most fun I've ever had."

"You must have come down here with Regina, then," he quipped quietly.

Emma laughed sharply. "Oh, you're joking, right? She did the same to you?"

"Practically learned to fly that day. She knocked me straight off the cliff's edge and into Maleficent's waiting arms. Arm? Well, torso, anyway. Quite unpleasant. I walked with a limp for ages afterward."

"You walked with a limp because you were hit by a car trying to kill Rumpelstiltskin," Emma teased.

"All the same, it's not an experience I care to repeat." He paused, glancing around again thoughtfully. "There's bound to be an alternate escape to this demonic cavern."

"If there was, you'd think Maleficent would have found it by now."

"That, love, is the one good point to being betrayed by Regina," he winked teasingly. "She talks non-stop when she considers you as good as dead. As it happens, she had spelled this entire underground prison to contain Maleficent. Even provided an escape, she'd not be able to use it. Now, as I see it, if there weren't more than one entrance, she wasted a great deal of energy spelling more than just the lift shaft."

"So you think that if we follow this tunnel…?"

"It has to come out somewhere, doesn't it, now?"

"You realize it could be nothing more than a dead end, right?"

"Come on, love, where's your sense of adventure?" His eyebrow lifted and his eyes sparkled with mischievousness as he goaded her with finesse, offering his hook to help pull her to her feet.

"I left it in my coat pocket. What a shame whoever did this to us didn't think I could use it."

He chuckled quietly before his face grew serious, and he tapped his hook against the rock wall. "You know, I may have an idea how all this came about."

"Oh please, enlighten me."

"Your sarcasm is unwarranted, Swan, though no less an aphrodisiac than ever." His hand moved to tug at his earring as his eyebrow rose again.

"How about we concentrate on the issue at hand, hmm?"

He chuckled again, shaking his head gently as they began walking deeper into the darkness. "I received a rather unwarranted visit from a concerned parent yesterday," he began, only to be cut off with Emma's understanding groan.

"Of course she did. Of course she couldn't keep her mouth shut until I had a chance to tell you myself."

His gaze darkened immediately, his emotions shifting dangerously as his eyes narrowed. "When would that have been, love?"

"I don't know, but it would have been better than hearing it from Regina."

"Aye."

She watched his fingers curl into a fist, his jaw setting firm with anger and hurt so deep that his shoulders shook with the effort to control it.

"Killian…"

"I'm fine, love."

"No, no, you're really not fine, buddy. You are so far from fine that it would take a year just to find something resembling fine."

He sighed quietly. "Aye."

"Really? Aye?"

"What would you have me say, love? I cannot begin to explain my reactions to you. I have never felt so bloody out of control in all my years."

"There has to be a reason why! I mean, what's changed in a week that could do this? Come on, Hook, you're unpredictable, sure, but you're never this bi-polar."

He forced himself not to react to her words as he ground his teeth together forcefully, reburying the hurt and hanger that swelled free. "Regina."

"Regina?"

"I'd bet my ship that she's behind this confinement. Perhaps my behavior as well."

"But why?"

"Open your eyes, Swan. You informed her that you were to steal Henry back to New York just when they'd reunited. She's desperate, love, and desperate people take desperate measures. Believe me."

"Okay, I understand why I'm here based on that theory, but why would she take you, too?"

He twisted somewhat uncomfortably, tugging at his earring as he shrugged, relieved when the aching hurt that had been there mere moments before failed to resurface. "She was somewhat under the impression that your leaving was due to the rather vast distance between us in the past week. This could be her way of trying to assist."

Emma lifted an eyebrow in disbelief, unable to stop the scoff from escaping her lips. "Seriously? Why would it even occur to her to try and fix us?"

The hurt and anger that came with her callous words was more familiar now, and easier to pack away. He managed to hide every emotion that followed her complete inability to accept him into her life as more than a companion on an adventure as he stopped walking, reaching out to place his hook against the wall, leaning upon it heavily. Even still, his words were colder than he liked when he finally met her inquiring gaze.

"Perhaps, love, she felt that if you were happy in Storybrooke then you'd be less inclined to run off with the boy she holds so dear."

"And my happiness hinges on being with you?"

His eyes never wavered as he held her gaze, pushing her to see past everything that lay between them until nothing remained but the truth. "It isn't so far fetched, is it, Emma? My happiness exists only when I'm next to you."

There was no trace of a lie.

No half truth.

No obscurity.

Nothing in his eyes betrayed his words as anything but the stone cold truth. She sucked in an unsteady breath, her fingers trembling as she lifted them to cup his face gently, unable to miss the near immediate release of tension that flowed across his entire body.

She couldn't say the words he wanted to hear, she knew that. Staying in Storybrooke and hinging her happy ending on a pirate she'd really only known for a few months in the grand scheme of things, that wasn't a decision she was ready to make.

Henry was her happy ending. Her entire life revolved around keeping him safe, keeping him happy, trying to see that he grows up as normal as humanly possible. In this town, with this family, with all the history surrounding them, she couldn't guarantee anything. She certainly couldn't give him normalcy. How could she, as a mother with a child's best interests in mind, stay where they would never be safe based on the pure possibility of a second chance at love? Hell, she'd barely managed to get over the damage Walsh had inflicted on her heart; trusting it again so soon, no matter how loud it was screaming at her to invite Hook behind her walls, was a non-option.

She held his gaze bravely, letting him see everything, knowing even if it hurt them both that he had earned the right to see into her battered soul. For better or worse, she let him in and offered him the only words she could, praying they'd ease a bit of his hurt.

"I believe you," she whispered before dropping her hand, glancing back down the tunnel, evaporating the moment before the tears she could feel building could begin to burn.

She watched him from the corner of her eye as he pieced himself back together, closing off, packing it all away while he thought her otherwise engaged.

"We should move on," he said, flatly, turning to step off into the darkness, only pausing as he noticed the bone deep shudders that suddenly began to pass through her as the increasing cool dampness of their cage began to chill her in her half dressed state. "Bloody hell," he groaned, shrugging out of his coat and holding it open for her. "You'll catch your death in that state," he muttered, "You should have said if you were cold."

She took the coat gratefully, sinking into the leather warmed by his body, the essence of pure Killian filling her every sense. "I wasn't until just then. It's almost like we passed through whatever was keeping out the nastiness down here."

He nodded thoughtfully. "We've likely passed the extent of Regina's barrier."

Emma flexed her fingers, concentrating for a moment before her little ball of light near exploded, rising from her hand and illuminating the entire corridor. "Huh. Works better out here."

"Magic suppression, I would assume. With Maleficent's particular talents, Regina would have been lax to overlook something so important."

Emma eyed him carefully, noting how in control he'd been through their entire difficult conversation. "You seem… better."

He nodded. "Aye. We've passed whatever cursed hell was placed upon me." His back burned warmly as she fell into her place beside him, shoulders bumping as they walked.

"So. You really think Regina cursed you? Like some kind of anger curse?"

He chuckled ruefully, reaching up to brush his fingers across his earring as he carefully considered his words. "If a guess need be made, love, I'd say it had more to do with control than simple anger." He saw the confusion on her face and sighed, looking straight ahead. "I rarely find myself out of control. Even while facing the crocodile, though seeming desperate, my actions were always carefully calculated. I've had near four centuries to perfect that control. You… try me, Swan. Every insult, every misspoken thought, every time you pull me close only to leave me behind. I lose a little more each time, but I've always managed to maintain. By removing that, Regina effectively set me loose to speak my every thought. Thoughts often shared by the others in your life. Perhaps she considered that you may be more prone to listen to me if I spoke with honesty rather than my veiled attempts to protect us both from the depths of my feelings for you."

Stunned, Emma blinked slowly, swallowing around the sudden lump that grew in her throat. He felt her retreat into herself, felt her shoulders stiffen and her step falter. Every wall she possessed slammed into place between them as she forced the corners of her mouth to turn up into a well practiced smirk.

"Well, she obviously doesn't know me very well, does she?"

He was spared having to respond as their leading light stopped just ahead, its progress ended by the debris of an obviously recent cave in.

"Bloody hell," he muttered quietly, testing the density of the collapse with a few tugs of his hook against rock.

"So much for Plan B," Emma joked without amusement. "Don't suppose Plan C involves finding a cell phone you forgot you had in your coat pocket? We could just call for help?" At the forlorn look on his face, she had no choice but to laugh dryly. "Guess not. Plan D, then? Let's go make a friend."

"Your definition of friendship is appalling, Swan," he teased quietly as they began retracing their steps.

"Friendship, murderous intentions, it's all the same, right?"

She was rewarded with a sharp bark of laughter. "Remind me never to ask for your definition of romance."

Truth be told, he had a sinking feeling that if asked, her answer would be terrifyingly similar. As an inaudible sigh passed his lips, the ink under his skin burned hotter, forcing him to step closer to her if only to ease his sudden discomfort.

To her credit, she remained silent for the remaining distance back to Regina's barrier.

~~~TBC~~~

_Much like magic, every muse has it's price. My muse's price is the little box down below. Please don't make her chase you for payment, it's such a bloody awful waste of her time._


End file.
